


Family is a Crisis

by Lysical



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Duke is the only sane person in the room, Gen, Robins Bantering Together, Sibling Bonding, bruce is a dad, completely ridiculous, in his humble opinion, inspired by Batman #16, pick and choose canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9646505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysical/pseuds/Lysical
Summary: In their family there's always some sort of crisis going on.--"Probably a fashion crisis," Jason muttered. "He probably dragged us all here so he could show off some chartreuse and fuchsia monstrosity.""You aren't making a new costume again, are you?" Damian added, nose wrinkling. "I thought we all agreed you were staying away from colors."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Batman #16 was fabulous and then I wrote this. 
> 
> It's 4000 words of batkids bitching at each other and being ridiculous together.
> 
> I regret nothing.

"Is there actually a crisis, or is this just another one of your excuses for family bonding?" 

Dick glanced up. 

Jason was slumped against the kitchen counter. His hair was getting too long again. The ends were curling in a way that everyone except Jason found adorable and his roots were showing, the streak of white grown out just long enough to be noticeable. 

"It's our family, Jay." Dick grabbed the tray of sandwiches Alfred had prepared earlier and nudged his little brother out of the way with his hip as he walked past. "There's always a crisis. Grab the drinks." 

Jason grumbled, but Dick heard the clatter of glasses that meant that this time, at least, little brother had decided to listen to him. 

Damian and Duke were already in the den, sitting on opposite sides of the nearest couch in what had probably been awkward silence.

Damian looked up and scowled as Dick came in with the food. "Richard, this better not be another card game." 

"I promise you, I have learned my lesson from last time." Dick placed the tray on the low coffee table in front of the couch and went to open up the cabinet that hid away the entertainment system. "But I maintain that it was Bruce's fault. He counts cards." 

"Bruce cheats at everything, just accept it," Jason said, putting the glasses and pitcher of fresh lemonade down next to the food. He turned to eye one of the chairs off in the far corner, so Dick intervened, sidling up to his little brother and linking their arms. 

"Accept it, huh?" Dick grinned as Jason tried to halfheartedly free himself. He towed Jason over to the other couch, a smaller one arranged perpendicular to the longer couch that Damian and Duke were sharing. He tugged Jason down to sit beside him and didn't relinquish his grip. "I'm pretty sure I remember a certain twelve year old little brother _crying_  when Bruce was winning a game of monopoly one time." 

"It worked, didn't it?" Jason replied. "He could never put me in jail after that. Ironic foreshadowing, actually." 

"Stop," Dick said, knocking their shoulders together and grinning. "That's not funny."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Then why are you smiling?" 

"Because you're such a cute kid," Dick replied, pinching Jason's cheek. He had to tighten his grip on his little brother when Jason decided to violently protest his affection and even then Jason managed to get a good hit in on his chin with an elbow, but it was worth it. There was a reluctant smile on Jason's face, and it was good for Damian to get a break and witness someone else get teased for a change. He jabbed Jason's side in revenge for the elbow and from there the hug turned into wrestling. Dick kept an ear out; fighting with Jason in any sort of confined area was dangerous, but especially so when Damian was around. 

Jason and Damian fought incessantly right up until the moment there was an opportunity to gang up on _him._

Their roughhousing came to an abrupt end when Jason's struggling turned into a twist and buck that sent most of their weight up against the back of the couch, making the whole thing start toppling backwards precariously. There was a moment where they looked at each other, wide-eyed, and then the couch careened over and they went with it, taking out a vase, an end table and sending Jason's head colliding with the wall. 

"Fucking ow," Jason said. 

Dick got to his hands and knees from where he was sprawled and crawled over to his brother's side. "You okay, Jay?" 

Jason winced, putting one hand to the back of his head and blinking a bit. He looked more startled than in pain. "Yeah." 

"You both look pathetic," Damian chimed in. 

"Should I—I don't know—get someone?" Duke asked. He'd already risen to his feet. 

"It's fine," Dick said, grinning back at Duke. He switched his attention to his youngest brother. "Damian, go get an ice pack from the kitchen, okay?" 

Damian scowled. "Why should I do it?" 

"Because I asked you to," Dick replied. Damian stared at him defiantly for a moment before letting out a huff and running out of the room. Dick turned back to Jason and helped him to his feet. His little brother tried to shrug him off. "Jay, come on. Let me help you." 

"I don't need help," Jason grumbled. He stared down at the broken vase. "Fuck, was that important?" 

"Not as important as your head," Dick replied, even as his gut gave a guilty clench at the sight of it. It wasn't like it was the first time they had broken things in the manor, but Jason had always been weird about it as a kid and Dick didn't want to dredge up any of that now. "Don't worry, I'll deal with it." 

Damian came racing back around the corner into the den, vaulted himself over the back of the remaining upright couch, and tossed the ice pack at Dick with considerable force. 

He plucked it out of the air and tugged Jason over, pressing the ice pack to the back of his little brother's head and ignoring his grumbling about being babied. All his brothers needed to be babied a little sometimes. That's what baby brothers were _for._

Jason's eyes were still fixed on the shattered remains of the vase. He bit his lip. "You could hide it in my room, no one ever goes in there." 

"No one went in there," Dick corrected. "Once you came back Alfred started cleaning it again just as regularly as any of ours. You should be using your room more often, little brother." 

"That would involve being _here_  more often," Jason replied and then rolled his eyes when Dick just stared at him. "Okay, I get it. You want me playing happy families with the rest of you." 

"And right now that means you let your brothers take care of you." Dick grabbed Jason by the arm and walked him over to the other couch, pushing him down beside Damian. "Damian, make sure that ice pack stays on Jay's head, would you?" 

Damian smirked. "Alright. Permission to use lethal force?" 

"Denied, but his two lower ribs on the left side are ticklish so aim your pointy little fingers there if you need to." Dick ruffled the hair on their heads and left his little brothers sniping at each other. Duke was still standing, looking towards the mess. "Sit down, Duke. I'll clean up." 

"If you're sure," Duke replied, and turned to watch Jason and Damian warily. He knew enough by now to give them plenty of space and evacuate the area when they got into it. Damian had already seized the ice pack and was holding it against Jason's head with enough force that Jason was wincing and leaning away in an attempt to escape. There was one of those looks on Duke's face again like he wasn't quite sure what to make of the two of them. Then he shook his head and turned to Dick. "Wasn't there a crisis?" 

"Protecting what feeble brain cells remain in Jason's head is the crisis," Damian replied. He grinned savagely and poked Jason in the ribs, laughing when Jason jerked and made a choked off noise. "That's for stealing my toy!" 

"Let it go, Damian," Jason hissed back. "Or I'll mail it back to you, piece by piece." 

"Are you for real?" Duke asked. Damian started using the ice pack as a weapon and hit Jason over the head with it. "This family, I swear." 

Dick shook his head, met Duke's eyes and grinned, before finally turning back to the mess he and Jason had left by the couch. The couch was easy to get upright, one of the end table's legs was cracked and a little bent but it still stood and was mostly level, but the vase—

"Loose floorboard in my room," Jason called, before reaching one arm under Damian's legs and sweeping him up and over the back of the couch. Damian flailed and tried to turn it into a handstand but Jason aimed another hit at his arms and their youngest brother came down awkwardly, nearly smacking his nose against the wooden ridge that ran along the edge of the couch. 

"He knows about that floorboard," Dick said, ignoring their roughhousing. "I'm not willing to risk it. It'll have to be the usual place." 

"You could, I don't know, say it was an accident?" Duke suggested. He shuffled further along to the edge of his seat, away from Damian and Jason. 

There was a brief pause in the fight as they contemplated the idea. Dick knelt and started picking up shards of the vase. 

"You're adorable," Jason finally said. Dick glanced up to see him standing, ice pack in one hand and Damian scruffed in the other, ignoring Damian's kicking and shouting. "'Tell the truth', what a novel idea. How about I leave and you all go do that?" 

Damian's hands clamped down on the arm Jason had on him and he kicked at Jason's hip. "If we're going down, you're coming down with us." 

"How much was that vase worth?" Duke asked, biting his lip. 

"Don't ask that question," Dick told him, wincing and turning back to the shattered remains. "Trust me when I say you don't want to know." 

"Worth more than it deserved," Jason muttered. "Over-priced, ugly, piece of—" 

Someone cleared their throat. 

Dick froze, dropping the pieces of broken vase in his hand. Duke looked horrified, Damian's expression had gone guilty, and Jason had turned to glare defiantly at Bruce, who was standing in the doorway and looked mostly bemused. The ice pack had mysteriously vanished, because there was nothing that agitated Bruce more than one of them being injured. 

Bruce eyes slid between each of them before landing on the shards of the vase. "What happened?"

"I broke your stupid, ugly vase and I'm not sorry about it," Jason said immediately, because despite his varied protests, he was part of the family and showed his love by throwing himself on grenades for them—and that meant that if the opportunity arose Jason would always, always sacrifice his own tattered relationship with Bruce to shield the rest of them. Even if it was unnecessary. Maybe especially when it was unnecessary. 

Bruce frowned. "I swear we've had this exact conversation before." 

"That was me," Dick said, grinning as everyone turned to him. "It was twelve years ago and I don't regret it either." 

"So once again you can't even tell your own children apart?" Jason whirled back towards Bruce, defensively aggressive in a way only Jason could get away with. If Dick tried that with Bruce there would be either a shouting match or a prolonged period where they stopped speaking to each other. Sometimes both. 

Basically his entire early twenties in a nutshell. 

With Jason, Bruce just got this odd, guilty look and turned all awkward, even when Jason was mostly joking and playing to distract. Jason would probably prefer the shouting match. 

"I don't care about the vase," Bruce said, face pinched. His hand twitched toward Jason like he wanted to touch him, but he aborted the movement. Dick rolled his eyes and abandoned the broken shards he'd been collecting, coming around the couch and bodily ramming himself into Jason, sending his little brother stumbling towards their father. Bruce caught Jason by the shoulders and steadied him. Jason straightened up, but Bruce left his hands on his shoulders, light and tentative but at least _there._

Jason turned to face Dick and glared. "What the fuck, Dick?" 

"Language," Bruce said, with a glance at Damian. 

"That was revenge on Damian's behalf," Dick told Jason, ignoring Bruce because Damian had heard far worse on patrol with his older brother, and by that Dick didn't mean Jason. 

Or Tim. 

Just as his thoughts started to dovetail down that rabbit hole, there was a sharp pain in his shin, and Dick looked down and blinked at Damian, who glared back at him. 

"I don't need you to defend me!" Damian aimed another kick at him. Dick dodged it, but that put him closer to Jason, who wrenched himself away from Bruce's hands to grab him by the shoulder with a bruising grip. 

"I'll hold him down, you stab him?" Jason suggested to Damian, Dick's two little brothers smoothly going from conflict to partnership with an ease that probably came from League of Assassins training, or maybe just came naturally to little brothers.

Damian nodded. "Sounds good." 

"No, it doesn't," Bruce interjected, taking the both of them by an arm each and keeping them still while Dick danced away out of range and poked his tongue out at them. "Dick." 

"Sorry," he said, grinning. Bruce closed his eyes and sighed, and Dick took the opportunity to give both his little brothers the finger. 

Bruce didn't open his eyes. "Dick, _behave_." 

"His dad-senses are tingling," Jason muttered. He looked down at the hand Bruce had on his shoulder with a frown, but didn't move to do anything about it. Instead, he looked up towards Duke, hovering awkwardly by the couch. "Hey, Duke. I'll pay you good money if you punch Dick in the face."

Duke's eyes widened. "Uh. I don't think I could even get close. And I probably wouldn't even if I could."

"More's the pity." Jason sighed. 

"If you're not our ally, you're our enemy," Damian said to Duke. "Choose a side wisely." 

"I'm Switerland," Duke replied. 

Damian clicked his tongue against his teeth. "I suppose that is acceptable. For now." 

Bruce shook his head, releasing Jason and Damian and opening his eyes again. His face still had a pinched expression like he had a headache, but the tinge of guilt he wore around Jason had faded away, the way it always did when he remembered that Jason was slowly coming back to them and Bruce wasn't actually going to ruin it all by standing too close or, God forbid, acting like his father. 

Batman could ruin the peace all too easily, but Bruce Wayne and Jason usually got along just fine. 

"Dick," Bruce said again, frowning. "I got a text message that there was a crisis?" 

"Probably a fashion crisis," Jason muttered. "He probably dragged us all here so he could show off some chartreuse and fuchsia monstrosity." 

"You aren't making a new costume again, are you?" Damian added, nose wrinkling. "I thought we all agreed you were staying away from colors." 

"It's not a fashion emergency," Dick replied, rolling his eyes. 

"Black, with blue or red. That's what we agreed, Dick," Jason said, as if he'd never spoken. Jason tended to do that, but Dick had stopped being offended about it years ago when Jason was still shorter than him and being a big brother had still felt awkward. Back then Jason used to find it funny to wind him up and watch his temper explode. He probably still would, but Dick had been through another two little brothers since and bitched out the Justice League regularly enough that little fazed him anymore.  

"Are you going deaf from all all those guns going off near your ears, Jason?" Dick asked. "I'm not remaking my uniform. And I don't remember agreeing to anything." 

"There was a meeting," Jason said. "You weren't invited because only people with good taste were allowed." 

"You wear a shiny red helmet on your head and you're criticizing me?" 

"Does 'Discowing' ring any bells?" 

"That was a long time ago," Dick insisted. "It was in fashion back then." 

"It was four years ago, Dick." Jason smirked. "Let's not even discuss the original Robin costume." 

"It felt longer. You've all aged me prematurely." Dick switched targets, glaring at Bruce. "This is your fault, you know. You're the one who decided to give me younger siblings." 

Damian turned to their father and frowned. "And I suppose it is true that Father must have approved the original Robin costume." 

Bruce pointed a finger at them, moving it between Dick and Damian warily. "Do not turn this around on me." 

Jason's smirk widened, showing teeth. "Let's be real, Bruce dresses up as a giant Bat every night. I guess we know where to really put the blame." 

"My costume's better than all of yours," Duke added. He'd picked up the shards of vase while they'd been distracted. Dick frowned at him until he put them down on the end table, which tilted a bit more to the side but didn't fall. "Just trying to help." 

"Your costume is bright yellow," Jason told him. "We work at night and try not to be seen. Your costume fails on principle." 

Damian snorted. "Because gunshots are the epitome of stealth." 

"That's what silencers are for, you little shit." 

"Stop it, all of you." Bruce's headache face was more severe now. There was probably an equation to figure out how much of a dad he'd be in response, where x was how many of his kids were present and y was how many of them were fighting with each other. "Now, is the vase why you texted me or is there actually something I need to worry about?" 

"Excuse you." Dick put his hands on his hips. "That vase probably cost a small fortune. More importantly, for all you know it could be Alfred's favorite. I think that qualifies as an emergency." 

"Alfred doesn't put his favorite anything in reach of children," Bruce replied. "Which every single one of you qualifies as." 

Dick frowned. "I'm twenty-five." 

"Get back to me when you act like it," Bruce replied. He waved a finger between the four of them. "And stop fighting in the manor. Alfred will be back in half an hour, apologize for breaking the vase and then do whatever chores he deigns to give you. I'll be in the cave if anyone actually needs me for anything. Jason, stop making faces at your brother." 

"You can't tell me what to do," Jason said sulkily. "You're not legally my father anymore." 

"Give me twenty minutes and enough motivation and I'll fix that," Bruce warned. "I don't care how much you enjoy being a legal nonentity." 

Bruce turned and walked away without waiting for a response. 

"I can't believe that was a sentence someone said in real life," Duke muttered. He looked down at the broken pieces of pottery. "He's right, though, yeah? About this not being Alfred's favorite?" 

"Of course," Dick said. "Alfred's used to us destroying nice things. One time when I was a kid I drew a mustache in permanent marker on a portrait worth over a million dollars."

Duke put his hands against the endtable as if to steady himself. "You what now?" 

"It seemed like a good idea at the time?" Dick shrugged. He looked at his two little brothers. "I bet that nothing either of you has ever done topped that." 

"I've killed people," Jason replied.

Damian pointed at Jason. "What he said." 

Dick waved a hand dismissively, refusing to let his little brothers plunge the conversation from light banter straight into trauma land. "Wasn't in the manor. Doesn't count." 

"You people are crazy," Duke said, shaking his head. He gathered up the shards of vase from the end table. "What should I do with these?" 

"Guess we should get rid of the evidence." Dick scratched at the back of his head, thinking about the best way to go about it. "It's not like we can glue it back together." 

"Go to Pottery Barn," Jason said. "I guarantee you there is an exact replica that is completely indistinguishable and only costs twenty bucks." 

Dick snapped his fingers. "Genius. Take Damian. Duke and I will distract Alfred when he gets back so he doesn't come into the room." 

His little brothers nodded. Both of them appeared perfectly agreeable to the idea, because sometimes miracles did happen. Or they were planning something, but Dick continued to live in hope until they proved him wrong. 

Damian looked up at Jason as they turned to leave. "I'm driving." 

Jason scoffed. "I'm pretty sure your feet won't even reach the peddles. You're really tiny, you know that?" 

"Do you want to die?" Damian snarled, reaching up to shake a fist at his older brother. Jason planted a hand on Damian's face and pushed him away, leaving the boy to windmill his arms a few times as he staggered back. Once Damian caught his balance he retaliated by biting Jason's hand. 

Jason jerked away. "Watch it! Now I need a rabies shot." 

"Little brothers," Dick called. They looked back and scowled at him. It was always adorable when they did things in stereo. "You have a job to do, boys. Operation Replace the Vase, remember? Hurry it up." 

"Fine." Damian huffed. "Just remember that i know where you live." 

"Yeah, I know." He had given the address to his little brother himself, after all. 

Jason said nothing, grabbing Damian by the back of the shirt and hauling him away. A silent Jason meant a plotting Jason, so Dick had _that_ to look forward to at some point. 

It was worth it for quality bonding time. 

"This seems like a lot of effort," Duke said, once Dick's little brother's had finally cleared out and Dick led him through the kitchen and out the back to the manor grounds. "I mean, you guys know he's going to find out, don't you?" 

"Yeah, of course." Dick led Duke past the well-maintained rose gardens towards the small clump of trees that Dick had climbed a lot when he was a kid. "You can't touch anything in the manor without Alfred noticing. That's not the point." 

"I don't get it, then. What's the point?" 

Once they reached the trees Dick crouched down and started digging into the loose dirt beneath the closest one. "It's more fun this way, trying to get one over on him. We never will, but he appreciates the effort. It's always good to show that we still fear him." 

"Crazy," Duke muttered with a shake of his head, handing the shards over when Dick reached up for them. He stayed silent while Dick buried them. 

Once they were sufficiently hidden Dick got to his feet and dusted off his hands. 

Duke scratched at his nose. "So, how much broken shit is buried under these trees?" 

"A thousand years from now an archaeologist is going to wonder what tree gods we were sacrificing household objects to," Dick replied. He shrugged. "It's just my and Jay's stuff here, mostly. Tim grew up in houses just as fancy and knew how to avoid 'unnecessary damage to the structural integrity and decor of the manor', according to Alfred. Damian didn't care who knew what he broke until recently. Now I think he just likes the challenge." 

Dick turned to grin at Duke. "As for you? I guess we'll find out. It's a good spot, for the record. Great way to shift the blame to me. Jay used to find it comforting. He looked at the manor the same way I see you looking around, sometimes. I did it in the beginning as well. It takes some getting used to. Until then..." 

He gestured to the ground where the vase lay buried. "Feel free to pass the blame to me." 

"Thanks," Duke replied. "That's nice of you. Weird, but nice." 

Dick shrugged. "I try. Come on, let's head in. We should probably do something about that end table. Got to make an effort for Alfred, you know?" 

Duke laughed and fell into step beside him. They walked back towards the manor. Right as they reached the door to go back inside, Duke turned to him. "Hey, so—there was never actually a crisis, right?" 

Dick paused. "There was, but I forgot about it. It wasn't that important or I wouldn't have tried to turn it into a bonding thing. Just something I put in the Batcave." He shrugged and opened the door leading back inside to the kitchen. He walked in and froze. Beside him, he heard Duke make a choked, stuttering noise. 

Inside the kitchen was Bruce. Standing there, completely motionless, completely expressionless, and staring at Dick. 

And dripping. 

And pink. 

Abort mission. 

"Oh, right." Dick laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "By crisis I meant prank. That I was pulling on Bruce. And wanted all of you to see. And take photos of. Duke, we should back away." 

"Yeah, no, I'm gone," Duke said, turning and disappearing back outside.

Dick pointed after the newest Robin. "He's a smart kid, you know. He's gonna fit right in." 

"Dick." Bruce's voice was a deep, angry growl. 

There was only one thing to do in response. 

Dick grabbed his phone out of his pocket, snapped a photo, and ran for his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd but I'll try to catch any errors (and excessive commas) on re-reads. 
> 
> I feel at this point like I should personally apologize to Tim Drake for continually setting my fics during the time period of his completely fake death.
> 
> One day I'll have an idea for a fic to make it up to him.


End file.
